


Spooked Story

by Festusmeal



Category: oc life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Festusmeal/pseuds/Festusmeal
Summary: TW: mention of rape and molestation.A story with OC's.





	

The grey tinted walls, that barely prevented the memories from leaking through surrounded her. Couches which fabric was shedding from the years of use, with a trail of fuzz leading up to them. Little knick knacks sprinkled around the room in an attempt to make the desolate room more homely. Yet attempt was futile, for everything in the large room screamed the exact opposite.   
The irritating ringing of a cell phone forced Vicia to focus on the older woman. “Stay here, I’m going to step out into the hallway to take this call,” the woman informed the teenage girl as she made her way out of the room shutting the door lightly behind her.   
Pushing herself off the couch, Vicia stalked over to the door and pressed her ear against the thin crack between the door and the wall, attempting to hear the conversation that took place right outside. Only silence stood outside the door for Vicia to listen to.   
Pursing her lips, the teenager began to wander around the room. Pushing books back fully onto the oak bookshelf. Gazing upon candy dishes that were set too far on one side rather than the other. Studying the candy curiously, she was sure that everyone’s grandmother had. Crimson red packaging, tan sprinkles sprinkled on top, with thin lines of green leading to where you could unwrap the strawberry flavor candy that was easily older than you.   
A loud thud echoed from outside the room, causing Vicia to jump and stare at the door with wide eyes. “Doc?” A small voice made its way out of the girls mouth as she wondered what had happened to the psychologist.   
No reply. Everything remained still. Holding her breath, Vicia’s legs guided her around the room in a more rushed manner. Only stopping when the silence was disrupted by the scratching on the other side eggshell white door.   
Slowly, Vicia dropped to her knees. Dragging herself towards a small cabinet tucked away in a corner. Opening the cabinet door gingerly in a desperate attempt to prevent whatever- whoever was outside, knowing she was in there. Shoving herself into the confined space she closed the tiny doors, concealing her away from the world.   
Putting her palm over her mouth to hush her muffled ragged breaths, she listened. The dull ticking of the clock, the whurr of the air conditioning unit kicking on, even though it was blizzarding outside. No matter how hard Vicia searched in the cabinet, darkness shrouded her.   
Knees pressed against quivering lips with her arms tightly wrapped around her calves to hold herself together. Though, after time her grip loosened, as the ticking lulled her into a restless sleep.   
Icy eyes fluttering open a good amount of time later, yet there was no way of knowing how much time had passed without leaving the sanctuary she had established. Moving her hands to her face she attempted to wipe off the fatigue. Freezing when a creak escaped from the front door.   
The air turned cold, sending a shiver down Vicia’s spine. This atmosphere was different from when she first hid in the cabinet; now the room had gone completely quiet, the clock had silenced. The silence was soon disrupted by footsteps. Not the gentle, footsteps the psychologist used, quick and faint. No, these footsteps were harsh, loud and deliberate; each one was made up with the purpose of being heavy thumps.   
Squeezing herself against the back of the cabinet, as if she was trying to push herself further from the noises. Tightly closing her eyes she bit her bottom lip to keep trembling gasps. Her eyes began to burn as they desperately searched the darkness.   
Vicia’s entire body went rigid when the footsteps stopped, replaced by hoarse, gravelly hum. Daring to peek through the thin crack where the cabinet doors met. Finally fixing her gaze upon the silhouette at the bookshelf, who was peacefully reading the spines of the books, fingertips dancing on the indents of the titles.   
Tightly closing her eyes, shaking her head in a pathetic attempt to shake the stranger from existence. A bitter smile formed upon her lips, as if that would truly work. What are you? A idiotic child?  
Body going rigid when the hum transformed into laughter. An uncontrollable laughter, venomous, leaving a sour taste in Vicia’s mouth. Eyes darting from the figure to his hands as he tore out the books from their neat places on the shelves. Dull thuds becoming as repetitive as the clock ticking. Watching the man rip the books from one side of the room and forcing them to crash into the wall opposite. Breaking frames of a young girl’s school photos. Causing cracks to spread over the naive, gleeful face, until the image fell on the wood floor completely demolishing the safe casing around the photos.   
The teenage girl’s fingers becoming numb, struggling to obey the simplest commands. Yet, as if this would save her from the angry individual, she slammed her palms into her face. Pressing the back of her head against the cool plastic, she sandwiched her hands on the other side. Attempting to crush her head. If Vicia couldn’t shake the stranger from her reality, she would push herself out. 

Suddenly, Vicia had become the child in the broken photo. The joyful grin replaced with a quivering bottom lip. Eyes filled with hope, promise, now dripping terror and helplessness. Small hands hugging the auburn wavy locks to her head. Tears rolling down her cheeks as small hiccups escaped her lips. Only to be quickly silenced when a slender woman hurl a stained glass lamp, jagged shards scattered about the room.   
The woman fell to her knees clumsily crawling towards the child. Ripping the chubby arms from the child’s head, wrapping her ever larger hand fully around the tiny wrist. “Listen to me.” The woman hissed as the young girl shook her head, attempting to wiggle her arms away from her mother. The woman’s voice grew louder as she leaned in closer to the child’s face, “Listen to me!” The woman shrilly shrieked as she forced her hand over the young girls mouth. “Shut up. Okay? We are going to play a game. So you have to be quiet. Understand?” The woman questioned, when she hadn’t received an immediate reply she tugged the child closer to her and hissed, “Understand, Vicia?” Content when Vicia gave a tiny nod. A wide smile spread across the mother’s lips as she slowly slid off the girl’s clothes. Her boney fingertips dancing across the bare skin of the child lower and lower.

The mother roughly pulled a turtleneck over Vicia’s small head. “Don’t roll up your sleeves or unroll the turtleneck. You can’t let anyone see your..” she mulled over words, “Marks.”  
Nodding quickly Vicia pulled the sleeves to her fingertips. Dreading what may happen if someone saw the bruises, scratches, and hickies that littered her small fragile body. 

Vicia blinked quickly, watching the figure rip the bookshelves off the walls and onto the ground. “Come out!” The gravelly voice shrieked. Tears spilled from the teenage girl’s eyes as she pressed her palm against her mouth, to stop any noise from spilling out. Heartbeat pounding in her ears, her eyes struggling to focus upon the silhouette, shuddering so violently she could swear the entire cabinet was rattling.   
The black figure wondered about the room calling out, thrashing things about. “Leave me alone.” Vicia whimpered, immediately regretting opening her mouth.   
As the doors swung open, the figure knelt down. “Come out Vicia, let’s play.” The figure stated wrapping her cold fingers around Vicia’s upper arms, dragging the teenage girl out of the cabinet and into the openness of the room.   
Shaking her head desperately, Vicia whimpered small attempts to deny this. “I don’t want to. Don’t make me, doc.” She pleaded.   
“We are off the clock, what are you supposed to call me? Who am I to you?” The stranger pressed slowly taking the form of a slender woman.   
Vicia bit her bottom lip, tightly closing her eyes. Attempting to run away from this situation, these feelings of uneasiness. No uneasiness was an understatement. That measly word didn’t cover the feeling of her insides twisting around so fast that she could possibly vomit at any moment, the cold sweat causing her shirt to stick to her body, her body refusing to allow even the slightest movement.   
“What are you supposed to call me? What have you called me your entire life?” The woman demanded, violently shaking the teen. Her face so close that Vicia gagged at the overpowering familiar scent of cigarette smoke.   
The woman was stronger than Vicia, preventing her from ripping away from the older woman. Swallowing hard, Vicia slowly spoke the poisonous word, “Mom.” Her mouth bitter.   
An all too familiar content smile found its way upon the mother’s face, slowly putting her hand under the teen’s shirt and danced its’ way into Vicia’s pants.


End file.
